


Sands of Time Disturbed

by Giroshane



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen, M/M, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-05-04 07:25:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5325638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Giroshane/pseuds/Giroshane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a year since Weirdmageddon and the twins are spending another summer up in Gravity Falls where things are peaceful (as peaceful as they can be in Gravity Falls). But things take a turn when someone from Ford's past suddenly shows up...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Something Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, as a forewarning, this fic is gonna be kinda...loose. Even I'm not sure what that means but that's the best word I can think of. I've never written a full out OCxanyone fic so I'm not sure where exactly it's gonna go, but this is basically a way for me to flesh out and develop this OC since I am planning on using them in original works later. Also since I don't have the full plot worked out just yet, tags may change as things go on. Just so you know.  
> Hope you all enjoy!

“Those chips are mine, Mabel!” Dipper tried to dive for his twin. He almost caught her this time! But she still eluded his grip, twirling away from him. That was the difference between them: where Dipper was faster, Mabel was more agile.

“No way, Brobro!” Mabel cackled as she danced around him tauntingly. Dipper swiped at her and she leapt out of his range. But he had swiped at her to push her in that direction--when she leapt she tripped over a tree root and landed on her rear. Dipper could easily overpower her now.

“Hand over the delicious snack, Mabel!” He crowed triumphantly, towering over her. Mabel didn’t surrender though. She looked up at the tree and gasped, and when she looked back to Dipper, there was a mischievous grin on her face.

“I have a better idea, Dipper.” She said. “Tree-snack!”

Dipper gasped.

“No, Mabel, don’t you dare--”

“Grappling hook!”

“Mabel noooooooo!” Dipper launched himself at her--or, the space she had occupied only a split second earlier. Mabel laughed as she zoomed up through the branches of the tree.

Dipper shook his fist at her.

“It’s no fun to spar when you cheat!”

“Now, now, Dipper,” Great Uncle Ford chided from the “observation deck”--or, Wendy’s secret hideout spot, which Ford had explained was actually a spot he used to simply observe the natural-- _supernatural_ \--fauna of Gravity Falls. But nowadays he used it the same way Wendy did (minus the pine cone launching), lounging in the deck chair and reading and keeping his grandniece and grandnephew from getting into too much trouble while his brother ran the Mystery Shack. Now he set his book down and raised an eyebrow at Dipper, eyes twinkling.

“Is it _really_ cheating?”

Oh. Right. Dipper grinned and took a few steps back from the tree.

“Have it your way, sis!” He called, before clicking his heels. A mechanical whirring started up from his shoes, and after a jump they propelled him through the air. Mabel yelled at Ford indignantly.

“Hey! You said he couldn’t keep those until our birthday!”

“I never said he couldn’t _borrow_ them, sweetie.” Ford replied nonchalantly, picking up his book once more. Mabel growled, but she did so with a smile.

“You still won’t be able to catch me, Dipdop!” She teased, balancing perfectly on the branch and firing her grappling to the next tree over. She jumped off the tree--

And didn’t swing. She _floated_.

“Woah!” Dipper cried, booster shoes suddenly propelling him through the air way too fast because there was no gravity to push against. Dipper fought to remain balanced. Where the heck did the gravity go!?

As soon as it was gone, it was back, and Dipper suddenly stopped speeding.

“ _Dipper!_ ” Mabel shrieked. Spinning around, he gasped. Mabel’s grappling hook had unhooked from the tree during the no-gravity spell, and now she was free-falling. Angling himself, he shot downwards to catch her, using the feign technique Ford had taught him to prevent them from crashing to the ground once he had her in his arms. Once they were close enough to the ground, Dipper clicked his heels again, and the shoes turned off, and they landed.

“Th-thanks, Dip.” Mabel stammered, clinging a little too tight, a little too shaken from the fall.

“Come on!” Dipper set her down and took her hand, and they both bolted for the shack. There was only one reason they knew behind gravity suddenly vanishing in Gravity Falls…

Ford had already slid down the roof and landed on the ground with a roll, running to meet them in the middle, trench coat on and sidearm in hand (as relaxed as the man had become over the past year, he still never went anywhere without it).

“Was that--”

“Yes!” Ford answered before Dipper even finished. He looked two parts greatly concerned and one part confused. “That’s dimension opening power, no doubt about it!”

Stan burst out of the Shack then.

“Ford! What the heck was that?” He cried, eyes wide with panic. “Was that you?”

“No!”

“Oh _jeez_.” Stan groaned, running out to meet the rest of them. “I don’t know if that’s good or bad.”

“Neither do I.” Ford nodded, tapping something on the screen of his watch. After several taps and the impatient staring of the rest of the family, he pointed out into the forest. “It’s coming from o--woah woah woah!”

The gravity vanished again, flinging all four into the air. Dipper swallowed nervously as Stan’s car lifted off the ground--this no-gravity spell was lasting longer than the first-- _much_ longer. When it ended and all four landed back on their feet (or butt, in Dipper’s mortified case), Ford immediately took off in the direction he had attempted to point in, leaving Dipper, Mabel, and Stan no choice but to follow.

“If it’s not us doing this, who is?” Stan asked as they all ran through the woods.

“It’s not Bill is it?” Dipper was hot on his heels. “It can’t be Bill, right? He’s eternally locked in an unbreakable prison! That’s why it’s _called_ Eternal Unbreakable Prison! How could he have gotten out!?”

“It’s not Bill!” Ford said, glancing down at his watch repeatedly. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

“Something _you_ haven’t seen before?” Stan cried. “That’s just _great_!”

“The zero-gravity anomalies are occurring at a much faster frequency than they ever did with the portal--here! It’s coming from here!”

The family ran out into a wide clearing in the woods. In the center of that clearing a blue sphere of light was quickly growing in size, crackling with energy and spinning faster and faster.

“It’s only released two zero-gravity anomalies and it’s already almost fully formed!” Ford gasped. “How is that possible?”

“Can we stop it?” Mabel asked.

“Do you see an off-switch anywhere?” Stan said skeptically.

“Stan’s right. This portal isn’t coming from our end, so we can’t turn it off--oh no.”

Once more the gravity vanished, sending all four into the air.

“Hold on tight!” Ford called. “The portal’s complete, this is going to be a big one!”

“Mabel, come on!” Dipper reached for Mabel’s hand. Once they were holding hands again, he reached for Stan, who took his hand as well. He clicked his heels and activated his booster shoes, propelling the three of them away from the portal and to a tree, where Stan and Mabel each grabbed onto a branch. Dipper turned back to Ford.

“Great Uncle Ford! You’re too close! It’s not safe!”

Ford was too distracted by whatever the readings on his watch were telling him.

“This is insane,” He murmured, “this is impossible…”

“Ford, get over here!” Stan yelled, fear for his brother evident. “Sixer! Quit nerding!”

Ford was still too distracted, and he didn’t notice the surge in the portal. But Dipper did.

“Great Uncle Ford!” He cried, rocketing to the man. He crashed into him and sent them flying out of the way just as the portal burst open explosively, flashing like a bolt of lightning.

And it was as quick as a bolt of lightning--less than a second, then suddenly the portal was gone, and the gravity came back, roughly dropping Ford to the ground. Dipper narrowly managed to click his booster shoes off in time to avoid crashing into a tree. He didn’t land on the ground easily himself, though, landing flat on his back and having the wind knocked out of him. Rolling over and trying to remember how to breathe, he watched Mabel flip off her tree branch and Stan clumsily drop to the ground. Ford was already fully standing, pistol drawn and aimed on whatever had come through the portal.

Or... _launched_ out of the portal more like, Dipper realized as he got to his feet, lungs restored. Whatever had come through had shot across the ground with enough force to leave a trail and end in a crater, smoke rising so thickly from it that it was impossible to see inside. Ford approached it warily, not once dropping his guard.

Loud coughing brought him to a halt, however, as well as a lot of...Spanish? Was that Spanish? It certainly wasn’t English--but Dipper could still tell that whatever was being said wasn’t very appropriate.

A figure slowly emerged from the smoke, still cursing (in what was definitely Spanish, without a doubt now). Ford immediately gasped, hands dropping, pistol slipping out of them in his shock.

The figure appeared to be a man, a little bit taller than Ford himself, and dressed almost like an Old West cowboy. His boots even had spurs, and he had a holstered pistol at each hip, although one was covered by a crooked, dusty poncho (most of his clothing seemed to be permeated with dust, although that might be from being propelled roughly across the ground). A flat hat with a wide brim covered spiky black hair, and he tugged his bright red bandana down to reveal scruff and a small goatee around a scowling mouth. He was young, and he appeared to have deeply tanned, rich skin, but there wasn’t much of it to be seen: he wore a jacket under the poncho, and gloves--he even had shaded goggles over his eyes. However, the most stunning part about this man, dusting himself off and still grumbling in Spanish, was the fact that Ford seemed to _recognize_ him. The genius took a tentative step forward.

“ _Si?_ ”

The man immediately froze. After licking his lips a few times, his head snapped up.

“ _Ford?_ ”

That seemed enough confirmation for Ford, and suddenly he broke into one of the widest grins Dipper had ever seen on the man.

“Si!” He cried.

“Ford!” The man was grinning himself, arms open wide. Ford ran without a second thought, jumping into the man’s open arms. The man easily lifted him into the air and spun him around like he weighed nothing, laughing as he did so. Stan, Dipper, and Mabel slowly grouped together, warily watching the spectacle.

The man set Ford down gently, hands flying to Ford’s shoulders to push him away a little, to examine him.

“Dios mío!” He exclaimed, still grinning. His voice was higher than Dipper thought it would be, but still gravelly, almost like he smoked (based on his appearance, Dipper wouldn’t be surprised if he did), and heavily accented. “Look at you!”

“Look at me? Look at you!” Ford cried. “You haven’t aged a damn day!”

“And you! I used to call you búhito! Now I guess I have to call you zorro plateado, ah?” Both men laughed at the apparent joke, and...Ford was even blushing a little bit.

The two seemed about to hug again, but Mabel cleared her throat loudly, bringing their attention to the rest of the people present. This wasn’t like a year ago, where she calmly introduced herself before flipping; this time she simply threw her arms wide.

“WHAT THE HECK?”

Ford quickly stepped away from the man, scratching his neck sheepishly. Even the man looked a little embarrassed.

“Sorry, sorry,” Their great uncle apologized. “It’s just--” He gestured to the man. “It’s been years!”

“Yeah, and how come he got such a warm welcome?” Stan narrowed his eyes at the two, arms crossed.

“Stan, this is different and you know it.” Ford frowned.

“Do I?” Stan fired back. “How do we know this isn’t Bill, in some...weird human form or something?”

“He’s--it’s not-- _ugh_.” Ford threw his hands up exasperatedly before turning to the man.

“Do you mind?”

The man chuckled, seemingly aware of the process. “Not at all.”

He pressed a button on his goggles, but under the brim of his hand Dipper still couldn’t see his eyes at all. But Ford could, and he nodded. The man pressed the button again, and again his goggles were shaded.

“No yellow, no slit pupils.” Ford turned back to his twin, clearly unamused.

“Yay! He’s not Bill.” Mabel waved her hands. “But who is he, then?”

Ford, smiled, unable to be irritated with his grandniece. He clapped the man on the shoulder.

“This is Si,” he explained, “He is a _very_ old friend. Not one I thought I’d ever see again. Speaking of which--” he turned back to the man--Si, now a little confused, “--how the _hell_ did you manage this?”

“You said it yourself, hombre,” Si shrugged. “This kind of technology was only off by a few years in my dimension. Well, it's been a few years, and…”

The man reached into a pocket inside his jacket and pulled out a small orb. It was silver, mottled with black carvings that looked slightly like circuitry. Now that it was in open air, it began to smoke. Ford, utterly fascinated, reached for it tentatively.

“But--I never said _portable_ inter-dimensional travel! How--how did your dimension accomplish it this fast?”

“Beats me,” Si shrugged again, pocketing the orb before Ford could touch it. “I didn't make it. I only use it, I have a real limited understanding of it.”

“Nonetheless, you simply must explain everything you know to me--but, later.” Ford shook his as if to clear it, turning back to the rest of the group. “Si, I’d like you to meet my family.”

“This is Mabel and Dipper,” he gestured to the twins. “They’re my grandniece and grandnephew.”

Si crouched down to be eye-level (more or less) with them, smiling warmly. When Mabel extended a hand, he didn't seem to notice it at first. When he did, he shook his head, muttering “oh, right” before taking it and shaking it firmly. He shook Dipper’s hand too.

“It is very nice to meet you both, niños.” He said. Ford didn't continue until he was standing again.

“And this is my twin brother, Stanley.”

Stan held his hand out reluctantly, and Si took it, smile more humorous now.

“Ah, so this is the infamous Lee I heard so much about.”

Stan immediately stiffened, glancing at his brother over the man’s shoulder, but Si was quick to reassure him.

“I promise you it was nothing but good things, señor.”

Stan forced a smile, but he still shot a glance at his brother again. Ford was decidedly not making eye contact with Stan at all. While the two had more than reconciled over the past year, there was still some tension whenever the two discussed Ford’s time on the other side of the portal.

“So,” Si turned so he was facing the whole group, “We’re up north...let me guess...2030?”

“Ooh, so close,” Ford winced teasingly, “2013. I’m not that old!”

Si chuckled. “Apologies. Still, I went farther back than I thought!”

“What year did _you_ come from?” Ford raised an eyebrow at the man.

“2146.” Si answered simply. Dipper noticed something change in Ford, almost imperceptible, but there. Dipper didn’t really focus on it too much, he was too busy being surprised that this man was apparently from the _future_.

“What? But you’re--you’re--” He stammered, “You look like you’re from the wild west! You look like you just walked out of a Flint Westwood movie!”  
Si’s eyebrows furrowed. “Flint...Westwood?” He repeated.

“Ah--uh, Clint Eastwood, in your universe.” Ford said, which seemed to clarify the issue for Si, who laughed.

“Oh! You’re definitely right--on both accounts, actually. I do come from the “wild west”, so to speak, and I suppose do dress like I walked out of a spaghetti western.”  
“You mean a ravioli western?” Mabel asked.

“R-right.” Si said. He shot a concerned look at Ford. “It really is the little differences that get you, huh?”

Ford nodded.

“So you’re dressed like a cowboy...but you’re from the future?” Stan asked. Both Si and Ford began to speak at the same time, and both cut themselves off at the sound of the other, Si grinning and Ford blushing.

“Sorry,” Ford apologized. “It's your dimension, you should explain it.”

“No, no, by all means,” Si waved to him. “Go ahead. You can probably explain it better than I can, and I feel if I talk any longer I’ll get a coughing fit...you don’t happen to have any water with you, do you?”

Oh, maybe that was why his voice was so gravelly. It also would explain why the man was licking his lips constantly.

“No, but there’s water back at the Shack.” Ford gestured off in the direction of home.

“Oh good, you can lecture while we walk.” Si shoulder-bumped Ford teasingly, much to the older man’s indignation.

“I don’t lecture!”

“Búhito, unless your personality has taken a huge overhaul since the last time I saw you, you’re going to lecture.” Si grinned.

“No, he hasn’t changed, _believe me_.” Stan smirked, taking any chance to add on to the teasing of his brother. “But, on this occasion, I’ll let it slide. I want to know more about this guy because--no offense--I do not trust you yet.” His voice took on a far more grave tone as he eyed Si.

Ford frowned, but Si nodded amicably.

“None taken. I understand completely. Trust is not something easily gained, I wouldn’t expect you to trust me on sight. Lord knows your brother didn't, and he had every reason not to at the time.” He said. He turned to Ford. “So by all means, Búhito, lecture away.”

Ford rolled his eyes, but smiled once more as the group began to walk back to the Mystery Shack.

“Si is from another Earth in another dimension, dimension Phi-Delta-87.” Ford began to explain, quickly becoming swept up in his own story-telling, hand gestures and all. “His earth is actually very similar to ours--in fact, if you travelled to his dimension during this year specifically, you wouldn’t find much to be different at all! But post-this-general-time-period, that’s where the differences start to emerge.”

“Global warming here is progressing, and progressing fast, although we are slowly beginning to combat it and preserve the planet, thus slowing it a little. In dimension Phi-Delta-87, there were no such conservation efforts, or at least, they weren’t strong enough to do much--global warming heated the planet at an extremely accelerated rate. By the year 2110, not only had ocean levels risen drastically due to melting ice caps, the equator had expanded to include most of the Northern and Southern Hemisphere, turning most of the planet into desert. Unaccustomed to the extreme heat, many people ran north, or ran south, towards the poles, where areas were still more temperate. Quite a few cultures died out, many merged together, and these poles became the hubs of most of humanity, where the majority of their society and technological advancement resided. Due to the lack of presence in the Great Deserts, the societies of the people who stayed deteriorated to a more… 'wild west' structure, so to speak. That’s not to say the advanced technologies of the poles didn’t trickle down into the Deserts, but, in a comparison to the 1800s, it was very similar to how the flourishing cities of the coasts were to the dusty western towns of cowboys and outlaws.”

“So...sci-fi space-western? Like _Lightning Bug_?” Dipper asked. Although he was practically hanging onto his Grunkle’s every word, his couldn’t tear his eyes away from the newcomer walking in front of him. Something about his left leg seemed to twitch every now and then, giving Si a strange limp. In fact, something about Si as a whole just put Dipper off.

“Yes! It’s exactly like _Lightning Bug_!” Ford cried excitedly. “Except...without space. Dimension Phi-Delta-87 Earth was far too concerned with preserving itself to ever bother to truly explore the stars--although it could be a possibility in their future. But yes, the genre mash is quite similar.”

“...Lightning Bug?” Si asked, tilting his head. Ford quickly leaned over and whispered something into Si’s ear.

“Ohhhhh.” The man nodded, a flicker of a smirk crossing his face.

“So you’re, like, from this weird dystopian future-version of earth? Oh! Oh! Like the Famine Games?” Mabel piped up.

“Almost. Not quite so fantastically barbaric, thankfully. Although I do recall that some of the horrid fashions in that film were quite similar to fashion in the poles.” Ford nodded. Si didn't even bother to ask about this reference, simply shaking his head and exhaling.

“So you travelled to this dimension, then. Is that how you met Si?” Dipper asked. Si snorted.

“ ‘Met’ is definitely a word,” He said. “Although not the one I would use.”

“Si and I didn’t exactly meet on amicable terms.” Ford nodded in agreement.

“Amicable terms? Understatement of the century, Ford!” Si laughed incredulously. “You were scaring away all my game, I was ready to kill you!”

“Game?” Mabel tilted her head.

Si dropped back a bit so he was walking alongside Mabel and Dipper, and he, like Ford, gestured as he explained.

“Okay, so, I live alone in my own little corner of the West Desert--what used to be North America. Because I don’t live very close to any settlements I usually just stick to hunting the wildlife for food. One day I’m minding my own business when I see one of my territory markers is disturbed. Not an uncommon occurrence, sometimes some travelers will pass by on the edge of my land. I think nothing of it. Then another marker is triggered. And another. And _another_. This traveler is literally circling the edge of my territory. At this point I think the asshole’s planning to try to take me out and steal my land--he’s chasing away all my food, trying to starve me out. So I decide to track him down, chase him off. Turns out that part of my plan’s been taken care of: I’ve not been tracking him for five minutes when the _imbecile_ runs by screaming his head off, being chased by a full pack of coyo-vines!”

“Those are coyote-wolverine hybrids. Terrifying creatures. Also, Si,” Ford frowned, “Watch your language in front of the kids please.”

“Oh, lo siento.”

“I also don’t appreciate you calling me an ‘imbecile’!”

“I do!” Stan interjected with a grin. “Keep going.”

That earned Stan a glare from his brother, but Si only laughed and patted Ford on the shoulder.

“It’s only because at first you seemed like one, Ford. I mean, I had half a mind to let the coyo-vines get him! Anyone in the West Desert knows you don’t _run_ from coyo-vines. My train of thought was literally: ‘that’s what you get, moron’.”

“Ah, but you had a change of heart!” Ford pointed out, smirking.

“Only because it hurt to watch your stupidity!” Si retorted.

“Believe me, when this man came barrelling out of nowhere, took down half the pack on his own, and carried me off, I was _not_ expecting the stern talking to I received.”

“I was just, so-- _angry_.” Si fumbled.

“You should have heard him, Stan,” It was Ford’s turn to tease, “He sounded like Ma.”

“Really?” Stan glanced between Ford and Si curiously.

“Oh yes, he's quite the mothering typ--”

“I am not mothering!” Si protested. This was obviously something that got under his skin very easily. “I said it once, I've said it a thousand times, I'm not mothering!”

Over Si’s shoulder, not really trying to hide himself, Ford nodded and mouthed ‘he's mothering’. To Ford’s amusement, Si fumed.

“I'm _not_ mothering! I show a little sympathy to a bumbling idiot in the desert, so shoot me!” He cried. Ford laughed, wrapping an arm around Si’s shoulders.

“You say I haven't changed, but you haven't changed either! You still get riled up so easily!”

Si growled something in Spanish and shoved Ford away.

“Ohohoh, so that’s how it is, huh?” Ford shoved Si back. Both were grinning now. Si shoved Ford again.

“Sí, that is how it is tu pequeña--ACK!” Si cut off as Ford suddenly deadlifted him, draping the man’s body across his shoulders and spinning them around.

“Que demonios que demonios!” Si cried, flailing. “Since when could you pick me up like this, ramita!?”

“What, you thought after twenty years of dimension-hopping I wouldn’t get some meat on these old bones?” Ford laughed. As the two continued to banter and spin, the rest of the Pines family looked on.

Mabel tugged on Dipper’s hand.

“What, _what_?” Dipper yanked his hand away. Which didn’t do much good, as she immediately latched onto his shoulder.

“This is possibly the most _gayest_ thing I have ever seen!” She whisper-shrieked into his ear. Dipper shoved her away.

“Come _on_ , Mabel! You can’t make assumptions like that!” He whispered back. The two dropped back behind the rest a little so there was less of a chance of being overheard.

“Come _on_ , Dipper!” Mabel echoed as they came into the clearing in front of the Mystery Shack. “The looks they give each other, the way they talk, they _totally_ had a thing! I don’t think I’ve ever seen Grunkle Ford look this happy! He looks absolutely lovestruck!”

“What is she on about?” Stan had fallen back as Ford and Si (on solid ground once more) got wrapped up in their own conversation.

“Mabel is making assumptions again.” Dipper told him.

“ _Not_ assumptions!” Mabel shoved Dipper indignantly. “The evidence is all right there. Si and Grunkle Ford were a couple.”

“We don’t know that!”

“Hey kid,” Stan interrupted. He was staring off after his brother and his brother’s new-old friend, completely perplexed. “Even _I_ can see it. Those two definitely had a past. But we don’t know what that past is exactly, and we don’t know what they are now, so I don’t want you meddling with your weird matchmaking thing. Got it?”

But Mabel was caught up in her own thoughts, getting more excited by the second.

“I wonder what búhito means? Maybe we can ask Soos. Oh, but I know ‘ito’ means little! Eeee! Si calls him ‘little’ something! That’s so cu--”

“Sh!” Dipper and Stan both clamped hands over her mouth before she could get any louder, but the other two had noticed nonetheless.

“Pardon?” Ford asked, brow knit in confusion. Stan coughed awkwardly and let go of Mabel. He adopted a stern expression.

“I don’t ever wanna hear that kinda language come outta your mouth again, young lady.” He scolded.

“Yeah! Mabel that was really bad!” Dipper joined in. Mabel scowled at the both of them.

Ford frowned, but paid no more attention to it, guiding Si into the house. In private now, Stan turned to Mabel and knelt down to be eye-level.

“No. Matchmaking. Got it?” He said slowly. Mabel sighed dejectedly.

“Got it.” She grumbled.

“Good. Now go back to fighting or whatever you were doing.”

“What? But we want to learn more about Si!” Dipper protested. Stan shook his head.

“Look, last time some kind of interdimensional portal opened in this town, there was almost an apocalypse, and I almost lost you both.” His voice became much more grave; he laid a hand on their shoulders. “I get that this is different, but there’s still a lot going on that we have no explanation for. Sure, this Si seems okay, but...for me, could you please just stay away from him for a little bit? Just until I’m sure he’s safe.”

Dipper and Mabel shared a worried look, but nodded. Stan sighed and straightened up.

“Thank you.” After a pause, he glared. “What? Did I sound like I was joking or something? Go back to your play-fighting. Or if you weren’t doing anything I could have you clean the gift shop.” He waggled his eyebrows threateningly. That was enough to scatter the kids.

However, as Dipper ran off, he paused to look back. Stan was frowning at the door Ford and Si had walked through, looking more worried than Dipper had ever seen him look in a long time. And Dipper didn’t hear it, but Stan muttered under his breath.

“Sixer, what mess have you dragged in now?”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

When Stan entered the Shack, the laughter he heard did not match with the wariness in his gut. He kept telling himself to relax, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't.

And it all came down to the fact that he had never seen Ford trust someone so readily in his entire life. Granted, there were huge gaps in time between which they had changed as men, but the fact still stood that, well...Ford was paranoid. From the moment Ford pointed a crossbow straight between his eyes more than thirty years ago up till now, Stan had never seen his twin without some trace of paranoia in his eyes. Whether it manifested as a simple over-protectiveness of the kids or as a debilitating episode that had him locking himself in the basement for days, it was a defining part of his character now. Ford tried to hide it, he really did; he knew it wasn’t healthy and he had been trying to overcome it ever since Weirdmageddon. Progress had been made, but hell, Ford still carried a firearm wherever he went and sometimes he would look at _Stanley_ with an iota of fear, like his brother would hurt him (sometimes Stan wondered if it had something to do with his memories, but Stan had explained too many times to count that Ford couldn’t blame himself or expect Stan to hate him for that).

But Stan was seeing _none_ of that with Si. Ford seemed completely safe and calm and...not paranoid. He seemed, well, Stan wouldn’t dare say normal, but...younger. And it was off-putting.

“Okay, you know how it is with foreign water. Your body’s not used to it, so don’t chug.” Stan heard his twin say, voice carrying easily from the kitchen. Then, after a moment: “H-hey, what did I just say! You’ll make yourself sick!”

“Lo siento, lo siento.” Si gasped. “Couldn’t help it, I--I haven’t tasted water this pure in _years_.”

“I understand wholeheartedly. I've been home for a year and sometimes it still throws me off-- _Si don't chug_! I’ll take it away.” Ford said sternly. Stan smirked as he stayed at the doorway to the room, just out of sight.

“You know it takes more than downing a single glass to throw me off. And you call me mothering.” Si snorted. Ford harrumphed.

“It’s called _caring_ about your well-being. It’s not like--” He cut off at that. The silence that suddenly befell the room was so heavy Stan winced. Quickly he did what he did best: barge in.

“Hey, got some water for the Sandman?” He asked. Immediately the sudden tension flew out of the room, as if both men were happy to abandon whatever had just arisen between them. They both faced him in unison, relief in Ford’s eyes and nothing to be read in Si’s. It didn’t exactly ease Stan’s nerves.

“If I got a credit every time I heard that nickname.” Si chuckled dryly, showing his glass of water, already practically empty. “Sí, I did. Thank you.”

“Where are the kids, Stan?” Ford asked curiously. “I figured they wouldn’t be able to leave us alone.”

“I told ‘em to go back to sparring or whatever they were doing.” Stan answered flatly, walking to the kitchen table. Ford’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“And aren’t you supposed to be working in the Shack?” He pressed.

“I’m on break.” Stan said coolly (and technically he wasn’t wrong: he only worked part time as a summer cashier at the Shack now that Soos had taken over as Mr. Mystery; it wasn’t much more than an honorary position whenever Stan and Ford were back in town, really). He sat down, then motioned to Si to do the same. “Have a seat, Si.”

Si obliged, but Ford had caught on to what Stan was doing and was vehemently against it.

“Stanley there is no need for these thea--”

“If you’re allowed to vet my friends,” Stan cut him off firmly. “I’m allowed to vet yours.”

“This is different!” Ford snapped. “You brought a _criminal_ , a motorcycle _gang member_ , into the _house_! And let’s not forget the fact that it wasn’t until _after_ I ‘vetted’ him, we found out he was _cursed_!”

“And who’s to say this guy ain’t the same!? Ford, I don’t know who he is, just like you didn’t know who Snakes was. It’s only fair.” Stan retorted.

“What, you don’t trust my word?”

“You didn’t trust mine.”

“Your _friend_ had _spiked shoulder pads_.”

“And _yours_ is carrying two _pistols_!” Stan shouted.

He would continue, but suddenly Si was holding hands up to both of them (although he was primarily facing Ford).

“Stanford! Stanford, calm down.” He said. “You’re overreacting. Do I look like I'm upset?”

“But--but--” Ford spluttered.

“Your brother has every right to question me. _Especially_ if you did the same to his friend. I appreciate you leaping to my defense but I think I can handle it, Búhito.” Sí said calmly and firmly.

“I just--” Ford protested, although weakly now. “I just don't want to--”

“I understand Ford, but really, it's alright.” Si smiled reassuringly, and just like that Ford seemed to back off.

“Alright.” He said defeatedly, but he still shot one last glare at his brother before aggressively sitting down in the chair between Si and Stan’s. Si chuckled, shaking his head, before leaning forward in his chair, hands folded on the table.

“So fire away, Stanley.”

Stan glanced between the two of them, slightly put off by how quickly Si seemed to defuse his brother. He cleared his throat before continuing.

“First off, disarm. I don’t want strangers with guns around my kids.”

“Understandable.” Si nodded, holding a hand up to Ford--who had begun to protest--but otherwise not acknowledging the man. Carefully he took his guns out of their holsters and set them on the table--and Stan’s jaw _dropped_.

“Moses.” He breathed, tentatively reaching out and pulling one of the revolvers closer to him. “These are Smith & Wesson Model 10s. What the _hell_ are you doing with these?”

“Defending myself when the situation calls for it.” Si smirked. Stan shook his head.

“No way, pal, my eyesight might be bad but it’s not that bad, I can see the serial number engraved on this. These are _bona fide_ _1899_ Model 10s. Those things can’t shoot bullets--hell, it’s a miracle they’re holding together they’re so old. They’re _antiques_. What are you doing with guns from the 1800s in the 21-whatevers?”

“Family heirlooms. Passed down from generation to generation.” Si explained simply. “I take very good care of them, and I don’t have to use them very often to begin with.”

“What, no high-tech future weapons?” Stan eyed the man. Si shrugged.

“Sure--in the Poles. My universe still hasn’t figured out how to make electronics survive the heat, however, so in the Deserts? More...primitive...weapons, are appropriate. And a bullet is still a bullet--quite destructive.”

Stan hummed, gingerly lifting the revolver to eye-level.

“I’m sorry, but--since _when_ did you know anything about antique guns?” Ford asked suspiciously. Stan met his brother’s gaze unwaveringly.

“Short stint in Texas tryin’ to take after dad with a pawn shop. Learned some interesting things, _saw_ some interesting things...how much experience you got with these guys?” This Stan addressed to Si.

“My father starting letting me practice with them when I was about 18. I’m 27 now. I know them like the back of my hand.” He said.

Stan scrutinized the revolver he had taken, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Finally he sighed, setting the revolver down and sliding it back across the table to its owner.

“Alright. Bullets out of the gun, when you’re in the house--that is, if you plan on staying here. I assume my brother’s going to insist on putting you up here, unless you’re just passing through?” There was a small, small hope in Stan that Si would say yes.

“No, not passing through.”  Si shook his head as he obediently emptied the bullets out of his pistols and put them away in a pouch on his belt. “It takes some time for the IDT to recharge--I’ll likely be here for a little while. But I do not have to stay here. Is there a town nearby? I can stay at an inn--”

“No, no, I insist you stay here.” Ford said, although he nodded to Stan with a sigh. “As...as long as Stan approves.”

“Well, like I said, no bullets in the gun when you’re in the house. The only one who gets away with that is Ford, and that’s because he’s got a laser gun.” Stan said.

“I understand.”

“Good. Now. How do I know you aren’t some shapeshifter or some other kinda monster?” Stan asked. Ford stiffened, but Si seemed unaffected. He reached under his poncho and pulled out a small switchblade, readily flicking it open.

“This,” He said, reflecting the blade in the light, “is pure silver. Ford could go into great detail about it--but, in short, silver repels most fae-kind and monsters: werewolves, vampires, fairies, unicorns, gnomes, et cetera. At the very least, it gives them an allergic reaction.”

“You know about those?”

“Most of them do exist in my universe, yes.” Si smiled. Nonchalantly he shoved back his sleeve, exposing the top of his forearm. Delicately the blade glided across his skin, and the thinnest cut appeared. But, it did bleed red, and there was no reaction to it, on Si’s skin or in his facial expression. “But I am not one of them.”

Stan smiled, but there was a wince to it.

“Thanks...for going to such great lengths. Uh...want some neosporin?”

Si tilted his head confusedly as he pocketed the knife.

“Neo...neo…? Ah, no, no thank you. I’ll be fine.”

“Alright, suit yourself.” Stan shrugged. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, simply staring at the man across from him. He still felt completely uneasy--but Ford seemed to pick up on it. The man sighed, and shared a long look with Si (and what seemed to be a silent conversation, with Ford looking unwilling and Si nodding encouragingly) before saying:

“There’s one more test that I can offer.” He said reluctantly. When Stan looked at him expectantly, he explained, with hesitant restraint.

“There’s a druid spell that I learned...if Si is a shapeshifter, or any creature of that vein that can resist silver, this spell will force him to revert to his default state--if he’s possessed, it will expel the possessor or at least reveal them to us. But that won’t happen, since Si is human and un-possessed.”

“Why don’t you seem too happy about that?” Stan asked suspiciously.

“Because it’s an unpleasant spell whether or not one is human.” Ford retorted, frowning.

“But,” Si added, “I’ve done it before. And I do wish to ease your fears, Stanley. I don’t want you to be worried about your family’s safety.”

“Alright.” Stan nodded. “Go ahead then.”

Ford sighed and cracked his knuckles, rising to his feet to stand directly next to Si; Si removed his hat and placed it on the table before him. His dark hair was quite unruly underneath, combed neatly but nonetheless spiking out slightly, like the spines of a calm porcupine. Gently Ford laid his palm across Si’s forehead, and lowly he began to chant.

_“Daonna amháin. Duine amháin agus daonna amháin. Daonna i fhuil agus comhlacht, in aigne agus spiorad. Daonna amháin. Daonna amháin!”_

Golden brown light began to shine in Ford’s eyes, and about his hands and Si’s head. The man winced, grinding his teeth together, but otherwise appeared unaffected. Stan watched the scene, eyes wide. He had never seen his brother use the druid magic he often spoke of like this before. Hell, he’d never seen or experienced druid magic at all, and he couldn’t say it was pleasant. He could feel this building pressure in the room, like a balloon expanding and expanding.

_“Daonna amháin. Duine amháin agus daonna amháin. Má ollphéist, nochtann féin. Má chréatúr, nochtann an fhírinne. Daonna amháin. Daonna amháin!”_

Stan shifted away as the light glowed brighter. Both men were sweating profusely, Si was biting into his lip (and Stan could _feel_ the man tapping his foot under the table incessantly). The pressure increased. Stan felt a little short of breath.

“ _Daonna amháin._ _Duine amháin agus daonna amháin. Seo tagann fear i mbeirteanna, agus siúlóidí sé ar cosa bréagach. Daonna amháin. DAONNA AMHÁIN!”_

And like that the balloon popped, and as the glowing light faded it felt like air rushed back into the room. Both Si and Ford deflated, shoulders slumping and both men breathing deeply. Ford sat down hard, and after a few more labored breaths he shot a scathing look at Stan.

“He’s human. Are you happy?” He spat. Stan held his hands up in surrender.

“Jeez! Yeah, yeah. Shit, are you two alright?”

“Yes. Yes, just…” Ford breathed. “I haven’t practiced magic in a long time. It’s like a muscle: the more you stretch, the more limber it becomes; the less, the more stiff.”

“I am fine as well.” Si rubbed the back of his neck tiredly. “If you can imagine an invisible force spinning you around and around while simultaneously splitting your head open, you get the gist of what this spell feels like.”

Stan grimaced.

“ _Damn_. Well, thank you for doing that.” He relaxed a little, finally. Knowing that Si was human put him at ease. Monsters, shapeshifters, aliens, demons? He had hardly any idea when it came to those. But humans? Humans he always knew how to deal with. He gestured to Si. “Looks like you passed, Si.”

“Thank god.” Ford groaned, rolling his eyes. “I can’t believe it took you an _ancient druid spell_ to believe me.”

“It took you a fuckin’ mind-meld or whatever to believe me.” Stan pointed out. “And I gotta say: I never knew you had those kinds of pipes, Ford.”

“Pardon?” Ford tilted his head.

“Your singing. Pretty damn impressive.” Stan said. Ford looked away, face tinging slightly red.

“Oh...ah...thank you.” He said quietly, responding to the compliment with modesty in lieu of pride as he tended to do these days. Si grinned.

“As beautiful as I remember, Búhito.” He said softly. Ford went noticeably redder, lips pursing together as he stiffened up. Internally Stan groaned: he hadn’t seen this Ford since they were kids but he recognized it plain as day--and Mabel wasn’t too far off at all. This was _exactly_ how Ford would act around any girl (or guy, Stan would make the connection later) he had a crush on. His modesty would shoot through the roof, as well as his awkwardness, and his shyness, and the amount of red in his cheeks. Stan had always teased him about it--you have to have more _gusto_ when talking to someone you like--and sure, he’d definitely tease his brother about this later. But for now the cat seemed to have not only caught, but ripped out Ford’s tongue, and the man blinked owlishly at the table, leaving Stan to save the conversation before it got too awkward, _again_.

“So you got a lot of experience with this kind of stuff,” He waved his hand vaguely to indicate he meant, well, _weird_ stuff. Like druid spells. “What are ya, a nerd like him?”

He jerked his head at Ford, and earned an eye-rolling in response--which was at least a step forward in improving the conversation (because at least his brother was making eye contact again).

Si’s brow furrowed, and he mouthed the word ‘nerd’ to himself. After a hum, realization came to the man’s face, and he smiled at Stanley.

“Ah. If you are asking whether or not I study the occult, supernatural, fae, extra-terrestrial, et cetera...no. I don’t, not really. Even at most I’m no where near the level of Ford’s study.”

“So how do you know so much about it already?”

“Well, once most of humanity fled to the Poles, a lot of countries and boundaries dissipated--including that between human and non-human. That isn’t to say it’s well-known that anomalies exist--far from it. _But_ they take less pains to hide nowadays, especially in the Deserts, where there’s not many humans anymore to begin with. So there’s that, and--well, quite a lot I actually learned from your brother.” Si explained. He chuckled, shaking his head. “Sometimes I still marvel at how much he was able to teach me in the time we--he was in my universe.”

“And how much--how long was that time?” Stan leaned back in his chair. “I’ve been meaning to ask that.”

At this Ford took over. He even leaned forward, hands folded on the table; Stan noted that his brother was almost completely mimicking Si’s position. _Lord_ Stan didn’t think he’d ever seen his brother this far gone. With a touch of bitterness Stan remembered when people used to tell him and Carla that sometimes they moved like mirror images of each other.

“I was about three years portal-side when I...hm, I suppose the most apt term is ‘fell’--into Phi-Delta-87. I wasn’t able to find another easy crossing point in--in--” The man wrangled for an easy description. “In the “ _fabric_ _of spacetime_ ”--so to speak--for about five years, give or take.”

“So you stayed with Si?”

“Yes. He did, after all, save my life. And he may talk about how much I taught him, but honestly? I wouldn’t know heads nor tails on how use a gun, or how to fight, or how to survive in a desert if it weren’t for him--and I survived in a few more dimensions because of it.”

Si turned to Ford curiously, eyebrows raising.

“Really? Even that last one?”

“Lots of places have deserts. Remember that old rhyme about cacti? It actually carries over in a lot of places.” Ford chuckled.

“No, usted está de broma.” Si shook his head incredulously--his shoulders shaking though. “No way that--spines in twos will make you bruise but like good booze you’re on cloud nine--”

“And spines in threes will sting like bees and make you freeze along your spine.” Ford continued it, grinning.

“Now spines in fours will give you snores but in the morns you won’t feel fine.” Si said, tapping his fingers to the beat.

“And spines in fives will give you hives but sharp like knives will be your mind!” They finished together, laughing. Stan’s brow furrowed--he didn’t know any cacti with spines that bunched like that. Then again, he wasn’t an expert when it came to cacti. The rhyme also referred to cacti in a different universe than his own.

“That rhyme couldn’t have helped you!” Si protested.

“Oh it did,” Ford wagged his finger, “And not in the way you think!”

“Oh dios mio,” Si moaned exasperatedly. “Please don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

“Are you sure--because she was very interesting--if mostly gelatinous--” Ford began mischievously. Si pushed at him, still laughing.

“No, no, dije que no! Good god!”

Stan couldn't help but laugh a little himself, if only because it was infectious.

“I'm glad you remembered it at least, since it took you so long to learn it!” Si continued. “I don't know how, but you always managed to mix up twos and fives.”

“To be honest, I don't remember myself!” Ford shrugged helplessly. Si turned to Stan conspiratorially.

“This man would walk in, yell ‘I can already feel my brain working faster!’ And promptly walk into a wall.”

Okay, _that_ made Stan laugh.

“ _Si_.” Ford practically whined, glaring. Si held up his hands helplessly.

“What? Es verdad!” He turned back to Stan, grinning. “ You may think he’s a genius, and sure, he is, but it took the longest time to convince me.”

“Are you kidding?” Stan snickered. “I’m still not convinced! I tell my brother, ‘don’t loosen that rope, you’ll make the fore boom go slack’ and what do I get? ‘Stan I know what I’m doing’ and not two minutes later, the fore boom knocks him into the ocean _because_ …” Stan looked to his brother, waggling his eyebrows. Ford grit his teeth.

“I loosened the rope.”

The other two man laughed uproariously.

“Sounds just like him!” Si wheezed. “Oh my god, you should have seen him when I took him to the Great Pacific!”

“Okay, on _that_ occasion it was a matter of scientific research!” Ford protested, irritated. Stan looked at Si sidelong.

“Let me guess, he tried to stick his face in a tidal pool.”

“The man got a venomous crab stuck to his nose. Twice.” Again, both men laughed; Stan practically doubled over.

“Si, Si,” Stan gasped for breath, and if he was next to the man he’d be clapping his shoulder. “Buddy, if you’ve got more stories like that, you and I are gonna be great friends.”

As the two men continued to laugh and swap tales of his more... _humiliating_ exploits, Ford sighed exasperatedly.

“Oh, I’ve made a mistake, haven’t I?” He grumbled to himself under his breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo! Chapter Two! Finally... >>"  
> As always, SOTD will have a fairly sporadic update schedule, but for now have Stan vetting--and unexpectedly bonding with--the new arrival.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I am not fluent in Spanish so if there are any errors feel free to correct me.  
> Also, Si is pronounced "sigh". It's short for something, but that's a secret for now...


End file.
